


If I Loved You Less

by MissMaudlin



Category: Emma Approved
Genre: F/M, First Time, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 13:11:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2026353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMaudlin/pseuds/MissMaudlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laughing a little longer, Emma just shakes her head. She suddenly feels like her heart is full, too full, it’s brimming over, and she says it. “I love you.”</p><p>Red creeps over Alex’s cheeks, but it’s not embarrassment. It’s emotion—overwhelming, intoxicating emotion, and Emma knows he feels it as much as she does. And then he’s kissing her again, and everything in the world falls away and it’s just them in this bed, finally together, finally where they were always supposed to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Loved You Less

_If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more._

Emma wonders where Alex could have thought of such a line. Did he ask John for help? But no, Alex has never been one to express his emotions so openly. It must’ve been spur of the moment, something from deep inside, and Emma never heard something so lovely in that frustrated tone of his in her entire life.

The moment she thought she lost him to Harriet, resigning herself to their relationship, she felt splintered. What a fool she was, to think that she could be a matchmaker, ordering people’s loves and lives, without knowing her own heart. Not realizing Harriet loved Alex, that Frank loved Jane, that _she_ loved Alex.

But now, everything is perfect.

_Emma, you know I’m not good at speeches._

She’s in Alex’s room—orderly, in tones of brown and gray because Alex isn’t colorful like her, the shelves lined with accounting manuals and textbooks, a lone old poster of The Goonies on the wall is the only decoration—and Alex is kissing her and she forgets the poster. She forgets that he doesn’t have any accent pillows or that his lamp is hideous (it really is hideous, did he get that from the bargain bin at Ross?). His hand is in her hair and his other hand is at her waist, and she feels like her skin is burning and her body feels jumpy and for the first time in her life, Emma isn’t in control.

He kisses her like she’s precious and desirable and that he’s wanted to kiss her for years. He leads and she follows. She wonders briefly how long he’s wanted to kiss her, but then his tongue enters her mouth and she falls back against the pillows and can only feel him.

“Emma,” he murmurs as he begins kissing down her throat. “Emma, you don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.”

For a man who isn’t good at speeches, he certainly knows what to say. Emma smiles and sighs. “Probably longer than I have, since I’m so slow on the uptake,” she replies, half-joking, half-frustrated with herself. What an idiot she is.

Alex looks up, and he cups her face in his hands. “When I thought you were in love with Frank—”

Emma covers his mouth. “Don’t even say it. And anyway, I never was.” She shifts away a little, suddenly uncomfortable with the look in Alex’s eyes. She deserves his disapproval, she knows. That doesn’t mean she has to enjoy it. “I just liked the attention.”

Alex moves her face so she makes eye contact with him again. “Emma, I’m just as much at fault. I should’ve spoken earlier. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” He smiles, a wry twist to his mouth. “Only you would fall for a guy who lectures you regularly.”

Emma feels stupidly close to tears. She doesn’t deserve this man. What a screw-up she is, what a total idiot, what a selfish, foolish little girl. She always prided herself on her awareness, on her control, on her knowing everything when everyone else knew nothing. Wrapping her arms around Alex, she buries her face in his neck. “I think I loved you since you bandaged my knees in third grade while lecturing me about climbing trees alone.” 

Alex laughs. “I lectured you a lot, didn’t I?”

Emma starts to cry. She nods. “I deserved it.”

Alex pulls away, sees her tears, and replies, “Emma, no. I mean, yes, maybe sometimes—”

Emma laughs. 

“But you are smart, funny, brilliant. You are everything I’m not. I’m boring, I like things in place, I think accounting is fun, for God’s sake.”

“Your lamp is hideous, too,” Emma adds, wiping away her tears.

Alex glances over at the offending lamp. “It’s not that bad.”

Emma glances over at it, too. “It’s horrible. Alex, where did you get it?” 

“At Ross, why?” When Emma starts laughing, he says, “Well, I’m glad you’re not crying anymore.”

Laughing a little longer, Emma just shakes her head. She suddenly feels like her heart is full, too full, it’s brimming over, and she says it. “I love you.”

Red creeps over Alex’s cheeks, but it’s not embarrassment. It’s emotion—overwhelming, intoxicating emotion, and Emma knows he feels it as much as she does. And then he’s kissing her again, and everything in the world falls away and it’s just them in this bed, finally together, finally where they were always supposed to be.

Alex slants his mouth over hers, kissing her hard and kissing her like he’s been waiting centuries to kiss her and Emma has never in her life been kissed like Alex Knightley is kissing her. His hand traces the exposed skin between her blouse and her jeans, his fingers slightly roughened, and Emma shifts under him, wanting his hand to creep higher. She’s very glad she wore that lacy black bra and matching underwear today. At the thought of what will happen, she feels her face flush and she’s suddenly very glad that Alex’s eyes are closed so he doesn’t see how red she’s getting.

Alex begins kissing her jaw, her throat, following the line of her throat down to her collarbone. His hand has traveled to her navel, tracing light patterns around her belly button.

She should probably tell him, but she hesitates. What if he stops? He’s too much the gentleman, she knows. It’s her own fault. Her self-imposed singledom resulted in her keeping her virginity until the ripe old age of 25. Oh, she messed around with guys in high school, going so far as oral in undergrad, but those guys vanished shortly after. And Emma didn’t have time for guys. They were messy, they were immature, they were rudderless. She hadn’t seriously dated since she graduated with her bachelor’s and begun Emma Approved. And now, now, she’s going to lose her virginity to Alex Knightley, the first man she’s ever loved, and she has no idea how to tell him.

“Alex,” she murmurs, but he’s still kissing her and his hand is almost to her bra and oh my God why does she need to tell him? This isn’t 1814. He isn’t going to have to marry her after the deed. “Alex,” she says more firmly.

He looks up. “What? Are you okay?”

Emma squirms out from under him. She can’t say this with him on top of her, his warmth covering her, his erection very obvious on her hip. She blushes and rolls away from him, facing away. “I should tell you something.” 

“That you’re a virgin?”

Emma squeaks (okay, she squawks, more like) in surprise and flips back over to face him. “What the hell—how did you know?”

Alex glances up toward the ceiling. “Well, I didn’t _know_. But I guessed. Your last boyfriend was Taylor, your freshman year. That lasted all of one month.” He shrugs. “I guess I’ve been keeping tabs on you for forever.”

“I don’t know whether I should be creeped out or not,” Emma says, her voice light.

“It really was more of a guess—”

“You know more about me than I do,” Emma replies. Taking his hand, she links their fingers and studies his thumbnail. It’s filed neatly, short, trim, everything she’d expect of Alex’s thumbnail. “So it doesn’t bother you?”

“Why would it bother me?”

“Oh, I don’t know, 25-year-old virgins aren’t exactly the norm.” Emma tightens her fingers around his, her heart pounding. She’s never been very good at giving up control. Having sex always meant giving up that part of herself, and suddenly she’s terrified.

Alex brings her hand up to his mouth, kissing it. His eyes, so warm and brown, are gentle as he gazes at her. “We don’t have to do anything today, Emma.”

Emma squirms. She wants to have sex with him. She does. She just doesn’t know how to go about it without making herself look stupid. “I want to have sex with you.” Alex coughs at her bluntness. “I do! I just…”

When she trails off, Alex asks, “What?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing and I hate it,” she blurts out. Ugh, this is humiliating. And completely unsexy.

“Emma, look at me.” 

Emma looks up.

“It doesn’t matter to me. We’ll go slow. We’ll go fast. It doesn’t matter to me.” Alex unlinks their hands and brushes his thumb across her bottom lip. “I just want to be with you, okay? I love you.” He smiles. “Even if you’re terrible at sex.”

Emma can’t help but laugh, the serious mood broken. “Thanks a lot.”

“You’re welcome. Now, where were we?” Alex takes her face in his hands and he kisses her. His mouth, Emma realizes, is firm and soft at the same time and his lips slightly chapped. He tastes like toothpaste and Alex. She adores that straightforward taste and smiles against his mouth.

They continue kissing and Emma, trying to be bold, runs her fingers through Alex’s hair and then down his back to his hip, his skin warm. She trails her hand up his shirt until it rests on his lower back. Alex, in reply, does the same to her, but his hand climbs higher until it reaches her bra.

“Can I see you?” he asks against her mouth. Emma nods, and Alex begins lifting her blouse over her head and suddenly she’s in her bra and jeans and trying not to be bashful about it. But the look in his eyes calms her, and then he’s kissing the tops of her breasts and she has no reason to be bashful anymore anyway.

His mouth is hot against her skin and she squirms a little, trying to get closer. He trails kisses between her breasts, along her collar bone and her nipples peak so hard that it hurts. She arches against him, wordlessly asking for more. But when he doesn’t go further, she decides to take the initiative and unhooks her bra in the back, pulling it down her arms until her breasts are bare. She blushes a bright red at his look but doesn’t back down. “Keep going,” she murmurs in her most commanding tone. 

Alex laughs softly. “Yes, ma’am.”

And then he kisses her breasts and then he takes her nipple in his mouth and she feels like she’s going to explode out of her skin. He sucks—hard—and she arches against him. “Oh my God,” she mutters. He sucks her right nipple and then her left and he plays with her breasts until they ache and she shifts restlessly against him, needing more contact. “Alex, please.”

“What, Emma?”

She doesn’t know what she wants. Well, except one thing. “Take off your shirt.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says again. Lifting away from her, he pulls off his shirt and now her breasts are touching his chest, which is sprinkled with chest hair—no waxing for Alex, ever—and Emma wants to cry because he’s so warm and solid and he loves her, she loves him and she wants this moment to go on forever.

As Emma runs her hands down his back, he leaves her breasts and skims his tongue down to her belly button. She laughs a little because it tickles. He glances up at her, smiling, and kisses her stomach. “Do you want to keep going?” he asks. If she had any doubts, they’re gone now: only Alex could make her laugh and cry in bed while also making sure she’s always comfortable. It almost makes up for his hideous lamp.

Emma reaches down and unzips her jeans. Alex, covering her hands, takes over the task, pulling her jeans down her legs slowly, savoring the view. Her legs, she knows, are one of her best features: long and lean, she loves that Alex loves them. Her pants at her ankles, he pulls them off and tosses them off the bed into a corner, landing with a thump. “Mr. Knightley!” Emma remonstrates. “There’s no need to throw things.”

Alex looks at her with such heat that she blushes. “I think there’s every need,” he says.

And now he’s kissing her ankles and her calves and sucking on the skin between her thighs and Emma lies back and just enjoys herself. She never knew sex could just be fun. And lovely, and wonderful, and also frustrating because Alex has stopped at her thighs and seems intent on not going any further. Only once has a guy gone down on her, and it lasted for a minute and was so infinitely awkward that she never tried it again with that boyfriend—who lasted only 6 months at any rate.

But her pussy is throbbing now and she wants desperately for Alex to take off her panties and go down on her but she can’t say it. So she hopes he gets the hint.

He doesn’t, but just keeps kissing her.

“Alex, for the love of God—”

He looks up at her and she knows now he’s playing with her. He wants her to say it. “Yes?”

She arches and tries to communicate all of this with her body but he ignores it and sucks the skin at her hip instead. “Oh my God, are you serious—”

“Emma, this is your show. Tell me what you want.” He rests his chin on stomach, waiting, smiling a little.

“You’re such a dick.”

“Mmm, that’s not an answer.”

Emma feels so hot that she’s going to explode. She keeps imagining Alex with his face buried in her pussy and she twitches and could almost come just thinking about it. But he just waits, breathing across her sensitive skin, her belly rippling, and finally she gives in. She reaches down to pull her panties down her legs so he gets the hint. But he stops her. “Emma, what do you want?” His hands keep her still. 

Emma wants to kick him in the head. But instead, she brings a pillow over her face and says, “Please go down on me.” 

“I can’t hear—”

She takes the pillow off her face and yells, “GO DOWN ON ME, ALEX KNIGHTLEY.”

He bites his lip, trying not to laugh. “That’s all I needed to know.” And then her panties are off and probably in the corner with her jeans and her legs are hooked over his shoulders and he’s licking her slit and sucking on her clit and she’s clawing at the sheets because she’s dying, she’s going to actually die from this. Death by oral sex given by Alex Knightley. The fucker. How did he learn to do this so well? Why did she wait so long to do this with him? Oh God, she hates him but then his finger enters her as he sucks her clit so hard she sees stars and that’s it. She’s done and she’s dead and it’s Alex Knightley who’s murdered her. She comes so hard it almost hurts. She might’ve screamed. She’s too far gone to be embarrassed by that.

It takes a bit to come down and Alex is stroking her sides and she realizes that she has her hand over her eyes, breathing like she ran a marathon. Or a 500 meter sprint. “Good?” he asks.

Emma does kick him in the side for that. “If you have to ask, you’re a moron.”

He takes her hand off her face and then he’s there, smiling—smugly, Emma notices. What a stupid, lovely, assholish, amazing dickhead he is. “I think I died,” she says, still a little out of breath.

“Do you want to stop?”

Emma reaches down to unzip his pants. “No way.”

Alex laughs and helps her get him out of his pants. He wears plain, gray boxers—of course he does, probably got them with the lamp at Ross—and then her hand is on his cock and she wonders with amazement that she’s here, in Alex’s bed, having sex, and it’s everything she’d ever dreamt. How did she get so lucky?

Alex, she notices, is breathing a little harder. Finally. He was a little too cool for comfort. Now she has control, and it’s a lovely feeling. Her hand strokes his cock and she feels it grow larger and harder and she’s about to go down on him, but he suddenly gets off the bed. “Condoms,” he barks and leaves for the bathroom. She can hear him opening cabinets, rifling through drawers—must’ve been a while since he’s had sex, she thinks with a smile—and then he’s back with an entire, bargain-sized box that he probably got with coupons.

“Jesus, Alex, do you think we’ll need the entire box?”

He glances at it, looks back at her, and replies, “Well, I am generally an optimistic guy, you know.”

Emma sputters and bursts out laughing and falls back against the bed. Alex climbs back on the bed with her, one condom in hand, and he’s tearing open the package and rolling the condom onto his cock. Emma shifts, wondering if she should be doing something. Can a girl lie on a bed sexily? By the time that thought flits through her mind, Alex is kissing her again and then he asks, “Are you ready?”

She nods. “Divest me of my virginity, Mr. Knightley,” she says in a deep voice.

Alex rolls his eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Now Emma rolls her eyes and waves a hand. “You know the whole ‘virgin bleeding’ thing is a myth, right? If you’re bleeding, you’re doing something wrong. Unless you’re gigantic, but you don’t _seem_ gigantic—”

Alex kisses her, shutting her up. “Shut up, Emma,” he says, his tone gentle. Then he’s guiding his cock inside her, her knees up, and she can’t speak anyway. He stretches her but she’s been ready for ages and it just feels exquisite and hot and she pushes against him, wanting him deeper. And then he is, and she wraps her arms around him, sighing. 

And then he’s moving, thrusting, making love to her and all she can feel is that they’re together, his cock in her pussy and it’s amazing, it’s fantastic, her toes tingle, her breath hitches, and he kisses her so hard and his kisses mimic his fucking her and when he reaches down to flick her clit she comes so hard she screams—again, for the love of God—and then he groans and comes a few moments later.

They keep kissing and touching and Emma sighs, replete, happy, so in love she might just die of it. But if she’s in Alex’s arms, she thinks, it’ll be worth it. They’re breathing heavily, not speaking, just recovering, feeling each other and all that’s happened. He’s still on top of her, and Emma revels in his weight, even the sweat sticking them together. Her hair’s probably a rat’s nest and she probably should take a shower, but for once her life, she doesn’t care.

When Alex pulls out of her and disposes of the condom, she feels a twinge. “Oh! I guess I am kind of sore.”

Alex returns, pulling her against him, and laughs into her shoulder, his hands on her side and breast. “Not too sore, though?”

Emma wiggles a little, feeling his cock against her back. “Mmm, well, I’m not sure—” She keeps wiggling until Alex pulls her back, hard, against him to make her stop.

“Emma,” he almost growls. “For the love of God, stop.”

Rolling over, she gazes up at him and smiles. She traces his face, his amazing, handsome, caring face, and says, “But I don’t want you to.” 

And Alex kisses her again until all she feels and knows is him.

_My dearest Emma, for dearest you will always be, whatever the event of this hour's conversation, my dearest, most beloved Emma._

**Author's Note:**

> The lack of Alex/Emma smut is a TRAVESTY. So here is my contribution. I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> I went back and forth on making Emma a virgin, but it seemed to fit her personality, quite honestly. She seems the type to be so picky as to not have a lot of dating experience.
> 
> Also, you know Alex probably has some horrible furniture Emma will be throwing out once they get together.


End file.
